Dear Diary
by Naja-FF
Summary: After defeating Tom Riddle in the Chamber of Secrets, Harry claims the diary as his own. He hopes to learn the secrets of the darkest wizard of the age. The diary, however, has other plans. (Hiatus)
1. From the Ashes

From the Ashes

You're dead, Harry Potter," said Riddle's voice above him. "Dead. Even Dumbledore's bird knows it. Do you see what he's doing Potter? He's crying."

Harry blinked in an attempt to refocus his eyes and looked towards his wounded arm where Fawkes perched. Sure enough, thick, pearlescent tears were trickling down his glossy feathers.

He heard Riddle's footsteps echo away from him, before there was an odd sound, a dull thump.

"You're dead," Riddle repeated, this time with an almost giddy undertone. "Just like the girl."

Harry's eyes flew open in shock; he angled his head to where Ginny lay and felt the bile rise up in his throat.

She was no longer laying facedown; Riddle had turned her over with a kick. Her eyes stared lifelessly at the ceiling and her skin was alabaster white.

Harry knew immediately that she was dead.

"_No_," he breathed in horror.

"But _yes_!" Riddle hissed back gleefully. "With this pathetic girl's death, I am reborn, whole and corporeal!"

He turned away from Harry and punctuated the statement with another sharp kick to Ginny's side. A loud crack sounded through the Chamber as her ribs broke.

"Stop it!" Harry yelled. "Don't you dare touch her!"

Riddle spun around to face him, a dismissal on his tongue, when he paused and stared at Harry.

He was staring at his arm, the arm pierced by the Basilisk's fang.

Harry followed his gaze and saw Fawkes resting his head against the gaping wound the fang had inflicted, the wound which was closing even as he watched.

"Of course," Riddle murmured, his eyes locked on Fawkes. "I had forgotten…. but no matter"

Harry raised his head and saw Riddle stride towards him, his wand raised.

Fawkes instantly disappeared in a flash of gold and crimson fire, his departure was immediately followed by a lance of incandescent sapphire light that rocketed inches past Harry's face and tore through the wall behind him.

Riddle gave a wordless roar of fury and whirled around, frantically searching for the phoenix.

Then Harry saw Fawkes appear in another flash of fire overhead and soar towards him. Fatigue forgotten, Harry leapt to his feet and stretched his hand out towards Fawkes.

'_Get me out of here!'_he thought frantically. _'Please get me out of here!'_

An ear-splitting boom shook the Chamber, the sound alone enough to bring Harry to his knees, and his world seemed explode into a searing white light.

Blinking away the spots that lingered in his eyes, Harry heard Riddle's laughter fill the Chamber. He turned to look for Fawkes, but found nothing except for a thick pile of ash meters away from him on the Chamber floor.

Fawkes was gone.

He felt his heart clench in terror as he turned to face Riddle who stood casually spinning Harry's wand, a vicious grin stretching from ear to ear.

"Well Harry," he said quietly. "What are you going to do now?"

'_Nothing,' _Harry thought. What could he do? Fawkes was gone there was no one left to save him, only the Hat…..

Only the sword.

Harry ran as fast as he could towards the Basilisk, wrenched the sword out of the creature's mouth and held it defiantly between himself and Riddle.

"That's the sword of Gryffindor, isn't it?" Riddle asked rhetorically, looking completely unfazed. "Under any other circumstances I'd keep such a historical relic for myself…"

He paused, before he smiled cruelly and said, "But I'm afraid the irony is just too precious."

And then with an almost lazy flick of his wand, he transfigured the sword into a cobra.

Harry gave a panicked cry, before throwing the cobra as far as he could, just avoiding the serpent's strike.

"Once bitten, twice shy, eh Harry?" Riddle laughed as he advanced slowly towards him. "You didn't really think such an archaic piece of magic would stop me did you?

Those pitiless blue eyes seemed to ensnare Harry as he spoke.

Harry backed away in panic, there was nothing he could do now, absolutely nothing. But surely someone would come soon; Ron would have found help, Dumbledore or a staff member would come. They had to.

"You still have hope?" Riddle demanded, interrupting his train of thought. "There is no-one coming for you, no miracle that will save you, no mother to sacrifice for you."

"_Not this time_!" He snarled, suddenly furious. "There is only you and me, and I promise you will beg for death before I leave this place."

"_Crucio!"_

Harry screamed. He couldn't help it, every nerve, every joint felt like it was on fire. He felt himself fall to floor, his body writhing with involuntary spasms. He couldn't think, all he knew was absolute and total _agony_.

And then after what felt like an eternity, it stopped.

Harry lay on the floor gasping for breath, every now and then another spasm would shudder through his body. The pain was gone, but he found his body felt like dead weight, a simple movement of his head made him feel like fainting.

He felt something nudge his side painfully.

"That hurt didn't it, Harry?" Riddle asked, his voice a mere whisper right next to his ear. Harry hadn't even heard him come so close.

"You don't want me to do it again do you?'

'_Oh please no,'_ Harry thought desperately. '_Anything... anything but that.'_

He felt Riddle stand and move away.

"Then _beg," _Riddle said softly. "Beg me to make it stop, beg me to end it, and I shall…"

Harry's fingers felt around mindlessly, looking around for anything they he could use, anything that could help. He wouldn't beg, he couldn't beg. Not after what he had seen Riddle do to Ginny, he had killed her as one would kill a cockroach. Had his parents received the same treatment?

Even now, despite the after-effects of the curse, that thought ignited a spark of anger in his chest.

Riddle noticed his movements and kicked him hard, sending Harry reeling. He felt something dig into his back.

"_BEG!"_ He shrieked, Harry could hear him pacing about manically as his hands moved to investigate what was poking him. "Beg, or I curse you again and this time I won't stop until you mind _shatters_!"

His right hand closed around a curved object, with a sharp point.

He gasped.

Riddle mistook the gasp for one of terror.

"Do you have something to say?" He asked, as Harry gathered his remaining strength for one last ditch effort.

Harry rose to a kneeling position, shaking from the effects of the spell and the myriad of emotions coursing through him. His fear was exceeded only by his…

_Excitement._

"Well?" Riddle asked, irritated at his silence. "Do you have anything you wish to say?!"

Harry remained silent.

Riddle strode towards him and towered over his kneeling form.

"So be it," He hissed, his eyes gleaming in the darkness.

He raised Harry's wand.

And as he did so, Harry lunged forward.

The fang tore through Riddles robes with ease and pierced into his stomach with a sickening squelch.

Riddle looked at Harry, stunned and horrified and opened his mouth.

'_No!'_ Harry thought, terrified. '_No more spells!'_

Harry ripped the fang out of his abdomen and immediately plunged it into his chest. He did it again, and again and _again_. He didn't know how long he kept stabbing, he only stopped when his strength finally gave out and his arms would no longer respond to him.

And then he rested, with his hand still gripping the fang lodged in Riddle's chest. It was only after a few minutes that the reality of the situation began to sink in.

There was blood _everywhere._

Harry was covered in it, his hands, his robes, his glasses, and his face. He was literally drenched in blood. Not to mention the fact that it covered most of the Chamber floor were Harry was sitting.

He immediately lost his lunch.

Once he recovered, he couldn't help a slightly hysterical chuckle. How would the school react if he turned up like _this_? "_Honestly Harry! Have a shower for Merlin's sake, walking around with all that blood is unhygienic!"_ No, he couldn't help another chuckle; he imagined their reactions would be far more explosive than that. He had killed someone after all.

_He had killed someone._

He immediately felt guilt surge through him, but another part of him, a stronger part of him said '_Someone who hurt you, someone who would have killed you.'_

'_Someone who already killed someone else.'_

Oh God, he had forgotten about Ginny. What would the Weaslys think of him, would they blame him for her death?

A spasm from the curse brought him out of his musings. He needed to get out of here. He took his wand from Riddle's right hand and was just about to get up when something caught his eye.

Riddle's left hand clutched the blood-soaked diary. It was laying face up and had fallen open during the struggle.

His first instinct was to burn it to a cinder, but he saw, where once the pages had been blank, now it appeared hardly an inch of the book was not covered in a neat script.

He frowned for a moment, before placing the book in one of his robe's pockets.

His _bloodied _robe's pockets. He couldn't go let the school see him like this and what was he going to do with Tom's body. Ginny's body wasn't his fault, but _Tom's_. No-one could know what he had done. But how was he going to get rid of it? One spell immediately came to mind, but would it work…

He realized he didn't have a choice anyway, so he levelled his wand at Riddle's corpse.

"_Incendio!"_

A burst of fire shot from his wand and collided with Riddle's chest. It devoured his robes hungrily and began to spread across his body. Harry had to fight off another attack of nausea as the smell of burning fabric mixed with the scent of cooking meat.

He left the body to burn and turned his attention to the blood that covered the floor and soaked him from head to toe. With a few quick _scougify's, _he managed to render both himself and the floor spotless. He closed his eyes; breathing a sigh of relief as he felt his robes dry and the blood leave his face, before he turned his gaze back towards Riddle's body.

The fire had eaten away at his robes and had just begun to do the same to his skin, but it was not making nearly enough progress if he was going to completely destroy the body. He snarled in anger, after all this, Riddle _still _refused to leave him be…

He raised his wand once more and hissed the incantation again, pouring his anger and desperation into the spell.

"_Incendio!"_

A roaring stream of white hot flame erupted from his wand, completely engulfing Riddle's corpse. Such was the heat generated by the spell, that Harry had to turn his face away. Despite this, he did not let up; he maintained the spell for another minute. Until he felt his body and mind might give out under the strain.

When he finally let go, there was nothing left of Riddle save for a brittle looking skeleton and a scattering of ashes.

"Just one more spell," he murmured quietly. "One more and its finished."

He raised his arm to deliver the final spell.


	2. Deception

Deception

The ground trembled and a deafening roar echoed through the Chamber as an explosion sounded from the entrance behind Harry.

Harry whipped around in alarm, just in time to see a cloud of dust drift through the entryway.

'_What the hell was that?'_

Riddle was well and truly gone, the Basilisk was dead. This could only mean one thing…

He threw the fang as hard as he could, aiming for the pool of water near Slytherin's immense stone maw. His aim was true and he saw the fang plop beneath the water near the edge of the pool.

Just as the cloud of dust parted and Albus Dumbledore strode into the Chamber, followed closely by Severus Snape.

Harry gasped, in a combination of relief and _fear_.

There was no pleasant twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes as they flicked rapidly across the Chamber, instead his eyes were icy and his face pale. He seemed to glow on his own volition, his power tangible and all-encompassing as it spread throughout the Chamber. Harry knew at once why he was considered the most powerful wizard in the world. He stood about ten meters away from Dumbledore, yet he felt that his power could suffocate him if given half a chance.

Even Snape appeared to be giving him a wide berth.

Dumbledore's eyes seemed to soften as they found Harry and he gave an audible sigh of relief, the sense of power pervading the Chamber died away. He let out another sigh, this one of sadness as he saw Ginny's body, before walking forward to stand close to Harry.

"It appears that I am too late." He said sadly, placing his hands comfortingly on Harry's shoulders. "I am so sorry, Harry."

Harry raised his eyes to meet Dumbledore's for a second, before he lowered them again quickly. He saw that they were once again twinkling benignly and he couldn't face that twinkle now. Not after what he had done.

Dumbledore gave him a pat on the shoulder that was probably intended to sooth him, but instead made him flinch. He noticed this and removed his hands from Harry's shoulders with another sigh.

There was a soft, but insistent cough behind them. Harry turned and saw Snape standing over Ginny's body.

"I suppose we're lucky you told Weasley to wait in your office," He said blandly.

At any other time, Harry would have been furious over the callousness of that statement. Now however, he just didn't have enough energy to bring himself to care. He saw Dumbledore give Snape a look of stern disapproval, before he left Harry and walked to wards the body, revealing his wand as he did so.

With a few swift gestures, he conjured a stretcher and deftly levitated Ginny on to it. Despite himself, Harry couldn't help but admire the ease with which Dumbledore used his magic; he hadn't heard him say a word.

Dumbledore paused for a moment, before conjuring a sheet of white linen to cover her body. Harry felt a momentary pang of déjà vu strike him. She looked identical to Myrtle when he had seen her in the diary.

"Severus," Dumbledore said quietly, bringing Harry out of his musings. "Take Miss Weasley to the hospital wing, Poppy is prepared for the worst."

"Gladly," Snape smoothly replied. "Once Potter explains who _that _is."

He was pointing at what remained of Riddle. Harry felt his heart sink. How was he going to explain this?

"I'd imagine, that that would be Tom Marvolo Riddle," said Dumbledore with a weak smile, causing Harry to stare at him. "Otherwise known as Lord Voldemort, the Heir of Slytherin."

'_How had he known?' _Harry wondered in shock, he felt a sliver of fear shoot through him. _'And what else did he know?'_

Snape looked at Harry appraisingly, before giving a derisive snort.

"Impossible."

"_Severus,"_ Dumbledore said sharply. "Take Miss Weasley to Poppy."

It was not a request and Snape left immediately, not even pausing to glare at Harry.

"Harry," He said far more gently. "I realize you have been through a terrible ordeal, but if you would please follow me to the hospital wing, I need you to give me the full story of what happened here, to give the Weasley's piece of mind."

Despite the gentle tone, Harry felt it too was more of an order than a request.

He nodded an affirmative.

"Excellent," Dumbledore beamed at him. "But before we go, I must ask, have you seen Fawkes and the Sorting Hat at all?

Harry felt the blood drain from his face, he couldn't bring himself to speak, but his eyes automatically focused on the large heap of ash that lay several meters behind Dumbledore.

Dumbledore turned to follow his gaze and Harry saw, that instead of appearing sad or angry, Dumbledore appeared quite pleased. He quickly stepped up to the ash and began to rummage in the heap.

"Aha!" He cried out jovially after a few moments, his hand held outstretched towards Harry.

Cradled in his palm was a small chick. While it wasn't moving, the minute rise and fall of its breast indicated it was sleeping

"Truly remarkable creatures, Phoenix's," Dumbledore said, while smiling at Harry's stupefied expression. He gave his wand an idle swish and the Sorting Hat flew into his hand.

"When a phoenix dies, they are reborn from the ashes," he continued. "They are nigh indestructible…"

He trailed off and his eyes lost their happy twinkle.

"But I'm afraid now is not the time for a lesson, the Weasleys are waiting."

He turned towards the Chamber entryway and beckoned to Harry.

"Come." He said simply.

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Harry trailed behind Dumbledore, struggling to keep up with his long strides, as they made their way swiftly towards his office. It was close to one o'clock, which meant that they wouldn't meet any students along the way. For that, at least Harry was thankful. He knew that tomorrow the entire school would be bombarding him questions.

Perhaps more than questions, if Dumbledore discovered that he had brutally stabbed Riddle god-knows how many times. This brought up the obvious question…

'_What was he going to tell him?'_

Not the truth, of course. He could just imagine Dumbledore's reaction if he did come clean. Those kind, twinkling blue orbs would turn to ice, just as they had done in the Chamber. Perhaps his suffocating aura of power would return as well.

The power that could _crush _him in a second.

No, he had to come up with something very quickly. He had a few scarce minutes before they arrived at the office. Hadn't Snape said Ron was there?

'_No.'_

He couldn't think about the Weasley's now, he had to focus on his story. Dumbledore was the Headmaster; he should be the one to talk to them. The students were his responsibility after all.

_Ginny_ was his responsibility.

It took them another two minutes to reach the office. Dumbledore whispered a password to the gargoyle, which hopped aside to let them pass. He stopped Harry as they reached the door.

"Harry," He said gently, grasping his arm. "What ever happens, what ever is said, I want you to know that _none _of this is your fault."

He gave Harry arm a gentle squeeze, before he moved to open the door.

Harry took a deep breath to calm himself. He had worked out what he hoped was a believable tale, now he just had to get Dumbledore to believe him.

And endure the emotional tsunami that the Weasleys were about to unleash.

Harry followed Dumbledore into the office. To his relief, not all of the Weasleys were present. Only Ron and Mr and Mrs Weasley, although Mrs Weasley on her own was probably enough…

'_Enough for what exactly?'_

He had done nothing wrong were Ginny was concerned. Dumbledore was right, it _wasn't _his fault. All he had to do was wait for Dumbledore to speak to them, he didn't have to do a thing.

Harry walked to stand beside Dumbledore and took in the faces of the Weasleys. They looked just as he had imagined, pale and drawn.

But hopeful.

"Oh Harry, thank goodness your alright!" Mrs Weasley exclaimed.

Harry noticed she had barely spared him a second glance; her eyes were locked on Dumbledore.

It was understandable, but it still hurt a little.

"Where is Ginny?" She asked, with a desperate quiver to her voice, as she noticed Dumbledore's solemn expression.

Dumbledore paused for a moment before simply saying.

"I'm so sorry Mrs Weasley."

All the Weasley's stared at him, their eyes filled with denial and incomprehension in equal measure.

"She's gone."

The office went completely and utterly still for a moment.

And then Mrs Weasley's piercing scream rent the air.

Harry didn't know how long it took Dumbledore to calm Mrs Weasley down; he suspected some magic may have been involved. Even so, it still felt like an eternity. The other Weasleys reacted in a very different fashion. Both were utterly silent. Mr Weasley weakly attempted to comfort his wife, his hands shaking as he held her. Ron simply sat down and stared blankly at the wall, his was skin bone-white.

He bore an unnerving resemblance to Ginny as she lay in the Chamber.

Both Harry and Snape remained quiet as Dumbledore explained that Ginny had been enchanted by Lord Voldemort. The same person who had opened the Chamber before over fifty years ago.

"How?" Asked Mr Weasley despairingly. "How did he enchant her?"

"I believe that he used some sort of artifact." Dumbledore responded. "However, only one person can truly answer that question."

Harry felt a moment of panic as Dumbledore turned to him.

"Harry, did you see what Lord Voldemort used?' Dumbledore asked gently. "Think carefully now…"

Though Harry took a deep breath before answering, his unease still caused him to stumble over his words.

"It…it was a diary."

"Ah, of course," Dumbledore breathed, his eyes widening in comprehension. "The diary would have had to have been enchanted with compulsion charms and –"

He stopped as he realized the Weasleys probably didn't want to hear the theory behind the object that had murdered their daughter.

"Your daughter is currently in the hospital wing," He said softly. "I will not keep you from her any longer."

"Thank you." Said Mr Weasley, he seemed the only one capable of talking. "Fred, George and Percy are in their common room, we'll stop by there first. Bill and Charlie are already on their way."

"I shall be with you in a moment," Dumbledore said kindly. "After I speak with Harry about his ordeal."

Harry's breath caught in his throat.

Mr Weasley nodded, before leading his family out the room. They sent Harry no accusing looks. They didn't so much as glance at him.

And then Harry was alone with Dumbledore.

"Harry, I realize you must be tired," Said Dumbledore soothingly. "But I need to ask you a few questions about tonight."

Harry nodded weakly.

Dumbledore smiled at him, before asked.

"What became of the diary?"

'_This is it,'_ Harry thought, fighting the rush of panic the threatened to overwhelm him.

'_Please believe me…'_

"I burnt it." He said simply.

He kept his eyes lowered in front of him. Perhaps it made him look guilty, but he knew that if he looked into Dumbledore's eyes, those eyes that seemed to look into his very soul. He would know for sure that he was lying.

"I used _incendio_," he continued. "And… and when the diary started to burn… so did Riddle."

There, he had done it. He had lied to perhaps the most powerful and most respected wizard in the world. He had made his bed, now he had to lay in it.

"Good." Dumbledore said softly.

Harry's eyes widened in shock. Did Dumbledore believe him?

"The diary was created using the very _darkest_ of the magical arts." Dumbledore continued. "You did the right thing in destroying it."

Harry couldn't believe it. He wasn't going to get in trouble.

'_Dumbledore believed him!'_

Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak again, but before he could make a sound, his office door slammed open.

Lucius Malfoy strode into the room, his face a rictus of fury. He was followed closely by a heavily bandaged house-elf.

'_Dobby.'_

"Good evening, Lucius," Dumbledore greeted pleasantly.

"You've come back," Lucius said, ignoring the greeting. "Despite being suspended by the governors, you've come back."

They started to banter back and forth, but Harry wasn't paying any attention to them. He was distracted by Dobby. The elf's massive eyes were locked and he was pointing at Lucius Malfoy with one hand and hitting himself on the head with the other.

'_What was he trying to tell him?'_

"And imagine," he heard Dumbledore say. "What might have happened then… the Weasleys are one of the most prominent pure-blood families. Imagine the effect on Arthur Weasley and his Muggle Protection Act, if his own daughter was discovered attacking and killing muggle-borns…

And suddenly Harry understood. This man was responsible for _everything_ that had happened. Had he suffered so much just so Lucius Malfoy could sabotage some _bill_?

"You gave it to her." Harry said quietly.

Lucius Malfoy rounded on him.

"What did you say?" He demanded furiously.

"You gave it to her." Harry repeated. "The diary…you slipped it into her old transfiguration book.

He saw Malfoy's hands clenching and unclenching in anger.

"Prove it," he hissed.

'Oh, no-one will be able to do that," said Dumbledore, smiling at Harry. Not now that the diary has been destroyed and Riddle vanquished.

And _that_ was what truly angered Harry. That despite everything he had endured, Malfoy was going to get away with this. And worst of all…there was nothing he could do about it.

"We're going, Dobby!" Malfoy suddenly thundered as he started striding towards the door.

Dobby scurried along behind him and as the Malfoy opened the door, his massive eyes locked with Harry's. Harry could see clearly what the elf wanted.

He was asking, _begging _for help.

Harry though for a moment, there was something he could do…

But it would mean giving up the diary and showing Dumbledore he had lied to him.

He met Dobby's pleading eyes and mouthed two words.

"I'm sorry."

Dumbledore turned to Harry as the door closed by Lucius Malfoy.

"You must be exhausted," he said gently. "After everything you've been through, I think it would be best if you went to the hospital wing."

'_Yes,'_ Harry though hopefully, _'Please let me go.'_

Dumbledore leant forward and said more seriously.

"If you ever wish to speak to me, about anything at all, my door is always open."

Harry nodded.

"Thank you, sir."

Dumbledore smiled at him.

"Sleep well, Harry. You've earned it."

As Harry left the office he couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief.

He was free.

He arrived quickly at the hospital wing and found it completely empty, save for the petrified students. He saw Hermione and made his way over to her. He wondered how she would feel when she discovered what happened.

He obviously wouldn't tell her the whole story. But he didn't think Ron would want to see him any time soon. While it didn't look like he blamed Harry, he couldn't be sure how he would react when they next saw one another. He hoped she would remain his friend in case he lost Ron.

Seeing all the beds caused Harry realize just how tired he was. He made his way over to one tucked in a corner far away from the petrified students. Before he collapsed into it, he remembered Madam Pomphrey's penchant for transfiguring his robes into hospital gowns. He reached into his pockets and pulled out both his wand and the blood-soaked diary and placed them under the pillow.

Then he collapsed onto the bed and lost consciousness.

Several hours later, after he had left the Weasleys sleeping at the Burrow, Albus Dumbledore found himself back at Hogwarts in front of his Potions Master's door.

He gave it two sharp knocks.

A slight smile tugged at his lips as he wondered how angry the man would be.

He wasn't disappointed.

The Potions Master almost ripped the door off its hinges and opened his mouth to deliver a stream of abuse at the person who had disturbed him.

He shut his mouth with an audible click when he saw who it was.

"Good Morning, Severus." Dumbledore greeted him pleasantly.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with amusement as he took in his colleague's dishevelled appearance. His hair stood up wildly in all directions in a style reminiscent of Harry Potter. He wondered how Severus would react if he pointed this out…

His smile widened.

Severus appeared to notice the movement and took several deep breaths to calm himself down. He levelled a glare at Dumbledore, the effect of which was ruined by the sleep clinging from his eyelashes.

"This had better be good, Albus." He said.

"Oh, I thought you would be particularly interested in what I have to say Severus." Dumbledore replied easily.

He saw he had successfully gained Severus's attention.

"After all," he continued. "Its not everyday someone finds the courage to lie to me."

"Especially if that someone, is Harry Potter."


	3. Homeward Bound

Homeward Bound:

It was close to four o'clock in the morning as Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape stood in the Chamber of Secrets.

"Are you positive Potter was lying?" asked Snape.

The Headmaster arched an amused brow at him.

"My boy, I work with the _Wizengamot_," he said wryly. "If I can play in that nest of vipers, I think I can read a twelve year old child. I must say, I am surprised _you_ of all people are defending him. You have not been very subtle in your dealings with Mr Potter."

The last was delivered with a hint of disapproval.

Snape glared at him.

"The story makes sense," he said with a sneer. "The damage the body sustained corresponds with what Potter said. The diary and the Dark Lord would have had to have been bound closely together by magic, thus a spell cast on one would affect the other. Besides, the Dark Lord would never let a spell as weak as _incendio _past his guard. It's the only way Potter could have-"

He cut off abruptly.

"Wait a moment," he said quietly." You said you _read_ him, does that mean you used legilimency?"

Dumbledore winced.

"I _attempted_ legilimency," he corrected softly. "I deemed the situation severe enough to warrant its use. However, Mr Potter did not look me in the eye once during my questioning. It was very obvious that he wasn't being entirely truthful...but at the same time, I am not sure what he was lying about and why he would lie to me at all."

He spread his arms out before him, gesturing towards the surrounding Chamber.

"That is why we are here. If Harry Potter will not provide us with answers, then we shall seek them here."

Snape walked to stand over Riddle's remains and stared at it intently.

"I'm not sure how much we will find," he said after a moments thought. "The fire has probably destroyed any physical evidence and we don't even know what exactly we are looking for."

Dumbledore nodded absently, before he reached into his robes and revealed his wand. He frowned for a moment in thought, he knew just the spell for this task.

The Compatior charm was a spell of Dumbledore's own design, a hybrid of the most masterful charm-work and legilimency. As far as he knew, he was the only wizard alive with the skill to cast it, with the possible exception of Lord Voldemort.

Wizards were powerful beings and that power sometimes worked beyond their control. When a wizard experienced particularly strong emotions, their magic tended to leak from the body and imprint on the surrounding area. The spell enabled the Headmaster to sense these imprints and actually experience the emotions himself. The mental aspect of the spell was why Dumbledore kept it to himself, any wizard that hadn't mastered the mental arts would likely find their own mind overwhelmed and shredded by the emotions they experienced.

The Headmaster focused his considerable will and twirled his wand in a complex movement, directing it at the place Ginny's body had lain. Waves of sky-blue light spread out from his wand, gently coming to rest around the surrounding area.

Immediately he felt his mind buckle under the assault of Ginny's final moments. He felt her terror, her sense of utter helplessness.

He flinched as her _screams _reverberated in his head, the screams she wasn't able to give voice under Riddle's spell.

"Albus?' Snape questioned, concerned.

Dumbledore broke of the spell with a sigh.

"She was conscious," he said quietly, his voice filled with sorrow. "She was conscious to the very last second, as Tom drained her."

Even Snape looked disturbed.

Dumbledore couldn't blame him. The girl's emotions as Tom slowly and inexorably _leached_ her of life had been horrifying to say the least. He was thankful his spell only allowed him to experience the emotion and not the sensation.

But Ginny's imprints had revealed nothing to the Headmaster, he needed to cast the spell once more.

He walked to stand before the remains of Tom Riddle and took in the sight before him.

There was nothing left of the boy's robes or flesh, all that remained was a skeleton partially reduced to ash. He noticed the chest appeared to have collapsed.

'_The flame must have eroded the sternum,"'_ he mused thoughtfully. _"This would have resulted in the bone collapsing into the chest cavity."_

Severus was correct,the remains did indeed support Harry's story. Harry Potter, while a powerful wizard for his age, was no match for a student four years older than himself. Especially if that wizard was Tom Riddle, perhaps the most brilliant student to ever set foot in Hogwarts. Indeed, even if by some miracle Harry struck Riddle with the _incendio_, it was extremely unlikely it would cause so much damage. That spell was for lighting cigars and fireplaces, not cremating bodies.

But there was more to Harry's story, he was sure of it. Perhaps Tom had the answers…

After taking several breaths to refocus his mind and brace himself for the onslaught of emotions he knew would assail him. He repeated the same complex gesture and cast the spell once more.

He was _suffocating._

Fear…shock…horror…and a desperate _fury_.

The air itself seemed to quake with the force of that fury.

He tried to gather his wits and focus his mind once more, but it was like trying to catch leaves in the midst of a hurricane. He felt himself fall to his knees. Something appeared to be shaking him and he distantly heard his name being called.

Suddenly, he felt something strike his face and remarkably he felt the spell's hold on his mind lesson for a second and that second was all he needed. With a monumental effort of will, he cancelled the spell.

His body sagged with relief and he collapsed to the Chamber floor exhausted. Dimly he felt his mouth being forced open and a warm liquid trickle down his throat. The warmth quickly spread throughout his body revitalizing him.

'_Pepper-up potion,'_ he registered, his mental facilities returning with his physical strength.

Dumbledore opened his eyes to find his colleague staring at him with a fearful expression.

"Albus, are you alright?" Snape asked.

Dumbledore rose to his feet and nodded weakly, unable to talk just yet, but already feeling his magic working to renew his strength.

"What happened?"

The Headmaster frowned at that question.

He knew full well of Tom Riddle's fear of death and knew the emotions would be extreme. He had prepared to face the shock and fear that were atypical of anyone about to experience a violent end.

Any_one_…but there was more than one imprint on that body. He was skilled enough in the mental arts to withstand any single imprint, no matter how traumatic. But even his prodigious skill could not handle two, especially if the second imprint was as strong, or perhaps even stronger than the first.

The dual imprints were woven so closely together they were almost indistinguishable. Only one thing truly separated them and that was the depthless anger that belonged to the second. Since Ginny had passed on, it was quite obvious who it belonged to, but it raised far more questions than it answered.

Harry claimed he had destroyed the diary which in turn destroyed Tom, which by itself was actually plausible. But Harry would have had to be in very close proximity to Tom in order to imprint on him, he literally had to be touching him. It was highly doubtful Harry would have had time to cast anything before Tom tore him apart.

It frustrated him that despite almost being rendered catatonic by his own spell, he had discovered almost nothing of use. He had merely confirmed what he already knew.

That Harry had lied to him.

What was even more frustrating was that he had failed to uncover the truth despite having all the evidence at his finger tips. Perhaps he had finally gone senile?

No, Severus hadn't discovered anything either despite his animosity towards Harry and his exceptional intelligence.

Speaking of the Potions Master…

Apparently he was satisfied with the Headmaster's health, as he was staring past him with an expression of longing on his face.

Dumbledore turned his head and managed a weak smile as he saw his colleague was staring at the basilisk. He supposed that any potions master would drool thinking about the possibility of harvesting such a rare and powerful creature.

His smile widened as an idea occurred to him.

"It's yours," he said simply.

"What?" Snape spluttered incredulously.

"It's yours," Dumbledore repeated with a chuckle. "As one of the greatest potions masters in Britain, I'm sure you will put it to good use.

A genuine grin spread across Snape's face as he imagined what potions he could brew. Literally every inch of the serpent could be used to create unbelievably potent brews. The venom, the fangs, the eyes-

"On one condition." Dumbledore interrupted his musings with a guilty smile.

Snape's heart sank as soon as he saw that smile, but he knew he couldn't pass up such an opportunity.

"What do you need?" He asked with a sigh.

Dumbledore beamed at him.

"Oh, it's quite simple really," the Headmaster said. "I need you to keep a closer eye on Harry Potter and to discover the truth about what occurred here.

He paused and his smile faded.

"Do you recall the promise I made you make," he continued. "About never using legilimency on the students?"

Snape nodded hesitantly.

"That promise no longer applies to Harry Potter," Dumbledore said quietly. "You may use all the power and skill to possess to discover the truth. However, you must be discreet. We cannot afford to lose his trust."

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed for a moment.

"I'm sure you will not abuse _my_ trust Severus…"

Snape nodded an affirmative.

"Excellent," said Dumbledore. "I believe we have discovered all we can here, but take Tom back with us just in case."

The two wizards exited the chamber, missing the still-bloodied fang that lay submerged in the pool of water behind them.

________________________________________________________________________

_Dear Diary_

_It has been a week since I started at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft of Wizardry. When Professor Dumbledore came to me in the orphanage, I hoped that I could find people who did not think I was a freak._

_I was wrong._

_My housemates, the Slytherins, are just like the others at the orphanage. They think I'm weaker than them because I'm not a pure-blood. I've done everything I can to show them I'm worthy. My marks are the highest in every single one of our classes, but this seems to make them angrier._

_I know it's pointless to talk to the professors about it. Professor Slughorn only seems to pay attention to the older students and I don't think Professor Dumbledore likes me very much. He probably thinks I'm a freak too. I think there is only one way to make it stop, to make them see that I am worthy of being called a wizard. _

_I'll just have to do to them what I did to the others in the orphanage. It won't be easy, the students here have magic like I do, but I've noticed all of the students in my year seem know as little as I do about magic, less so in fact. I have heard many of them mention incidents of "accidental magic", but nothing more. None of them seem to have any control. Not like me._

_I must learn more, the older students have left me alone so far, but I think that will change soon judging by the way they look at me._

_I need to find a way to become stronger than them all._

Harry yawned as he closed the thick book. He awakened many times during the night, his dreams plagued by the events of the chamber. After finally abandoning his attempts to sleep he decided to find something to occupy himself with. He had thought reading the diary would have been more interesting than counting the ceiling tiles or listening to the faint sounds of Madam Pomphrey scurrying around.

It turned out he was right on that count. The diary was _fascinating_, albeit a little chilling. Tom's final thoughts on how he would become stronger were certainly prophetic. And what had he done to those people at the orphanage?

Harry knew he should be feeling sickened at the thought of Tom using his powers the way he had, but instead he felt a strange sense of kinship and dare he say it…

_Envy._

Harry knew firsthand how cruel people could be. After all, he had spent most of his life being trodden on by his Aunt and Uncle. Not to mention the beatings he had sustained from his cousin and his little gang. But Tom had found a way to turn the tables on his oppressors, even before he went to Hogwarts. Harry was going into his third year and yet he still had to walk around on tender hooks for fear of upsetting them.

'_His third year…'_

Harry recalled many bouts of accidental magic when he was younger, but those incidents were unintentional. Tom's words, while vague, indicated that he had actually planned his use of magic, that he had a measure of control over his powers. What had Tom been capable of without a wand?

Harry removed one of the pillows behind his head and placed it in the centre of the bed.

And how could he accomplish the same?

He frowned in thought. He couldn't say the words out loud, that would bring Madam Pomphrey calling. Riddle hadn't even known about the spell anyway…

'_Maybe I should start from the beginning, it can't hurt to think the words anyway.'_

He raised his hand out in front of him.

'_Wingardium Leviosa!' _he thought at the pillow, waving his hand at it uncertainly.

The pillow didn't so much as twitch.

Harry sighed in dismay.

Was he simply to weak a wizard to do this? Tom was a fledgling Dark Lord after all, and he hadn't heard any of his friends mention having any control ever their powers…

'_No,'_ Harry thought, a sliver of anger coursing through him.

Tom had been less than a first year when he had done this. Dark Lord or not, Harry couldn't believe someone who hadn't even started at Hogwarts could be stronger than him. There was no way he was that weak a wizard.

He raised his hand again and gestured furiously at the pillow.

'_Up!'_

The pillow shot into the air so quickly it almost ripped out of its casing, before it slammed into the ceiling with a loud thud.

Harry's mouth fell open in shock as a gentle rain of feathers floated softly down towards him.

The look of shock quickly transformed into a broad grin.

'_I did it!'_

"What on earth is that racket!" A piercing feminine shriek interrupted his celebratory thoughts.

Seconds later the blinds around his bed flew open to reveal Madam Pomprehy's angry visage. Her expression only darkened as the pillow fell from the ceiling, whooshing past her face as it landed on the bed.

"Sorry Madam Pomphrey," Harry said, thinking quickly. "Charms mishap, I was practicing for the exams."

The nurse glowered at him, but Harry interrupted her before she could go on a tangent.

"I'm sorry," Harry said with what he hoped passed for genuine sincerity. "But could you tell me how everyone is doing after…everything?"

Madam Pomphrey's fearsome disposition softened instantly.

"Oh of course, you poor dear," she said gently. "The Weasleys are naturally distraught, but at least I have some good news."

She reached into her robes and pulled out a large bottle of acid green liquid.

"The mandrake drought is ready," she said with a smile. "Miss Granger and the other students will be up and about in no time."

A few minutes later, Harry stood at Hermione's bedside, watching her stirring form intently. Madam Pomphrey had administered the potion, now all they could do was wait until she revived. He was pleased that she was finally going to recover, but he knew she would expect him to tell her everything that had happened while she was incapacitated.

He also knew she wasn't going to like what he was going to say.

Both he and Madam Pomphrey were startled when Hermione gasped and flung herself away from them, her eyes wide in terror.

Madam Pomphrey immediately wrapped her arms around her.

"Calm yourself Miss Granger!"

Despite the order, Hermione showed no signs of calming down and continued to thrash about wildly.

Harry stood aside and let Madame Pomphrey try calm her down. He had no idea what was causing her so much distress. The hospital wing wasn't exactly what one would call scary.

He took a step towards her, only for her to recoil even more. Harry could hear small, panicked sobs were escaping her now.

"GET AWAY!" she shrieked, terrified.

"Hermione, it's me," he said in what he hoped was a comforting tone. "It's Harry, your best friend."

Hermione stopped her frenzied attempts at escape and her eyes seemed to become less panicked and more confused.

Harry took this as a good sign and continued speaking.

"You're in the hospital wing with Madame Pompfrey. We aren't going to hurt you; we're trying to help you."

Hermione leaned over Madame Pomphrey's shoulder to take a closer look at him, focused and alert now.

"Harry?" she asked as if she couldn't believe she was seeing him.

Harry smiled at her comfortingly.

"Yes, it's me."

He watched as she let go of Madame Pomphrey, all the tension leaving her body.. She sobbed again, but this time it appeared it was out of relief.

"Thank God," she breathed. "I thought it was going to get me_."_

To Hermione, it seemed as if no time had passed since her encounter with the basilisk. If that was the case, Harry thought her reaction was completely justified.

He waited patiently as Hermione calmed down and sighed in resignation when she asked him that inevitable question.

"What happened?"

________________________________________________________________________

He told her exactly what he had told the Headmaster and in the end her reaction was just as he had anticipated.

She gripped him in a painfully tight hug and began to bemoan the fate of Ginny and her family.

He felt a momentary pang of guilt as he realized he hadn't spared the girl a moment of thought since he left the Chamber, but he banished it quickly. When it came down to it, the only reason _he_ had survived was because Tom liked to play with his prey. There was nothing he could have done to prevent the diary from consuming her.

'_She stole it from you…'_

Harry stiffened in Hermione's arms as the traitorous and almost foreign thought crossed his mind.

It was accompanied by a touch of anger.

"Oh, Harry it wasn't your fault," Hermione said soothingly, misinterpreting his reaction.

No it certainly wasn't.

Ginny had taken the diary after he had discovered the truth about Hagrid's innocence. If it had still been in his possession, he would have confronted Tom and probably destroyed the book then and there. It was _her _fault that he had nearly been tortured and killed, her own fault that she had died. There was nothing he could have done to prevent her from writing in the book.

There was no reason to point fingers though Harry thought. Not anymore. Tom was dead, his diary nestled comfortably in his robe pocket, completely powerless. The fact that Dumbledore believed his tale was icing on the cake. Life would go on as it always had.

He glanced down at his hand behind Hermione's shoulder.

Perhaps, it would go more smoothly if he could learn to control his powers as Tom had.

Hermione craned her neck over his shoulder before she released Harry from her crushing grip.

"Good morning Professor McGonnagall," she said politely.

Harry blinked, and turned around to see the professor standing behind them, an unexpectedly soft smile on her face.

"Good Morning to you to Ms Granger, Mr Potter," she said briskly. "The Headmaster will be making a special announcement concerning Ginny Weasley now, he wishes for everyone to be present."

She moved towards the infirmary door and gestured for them to follow her.

Harry felt another soft sigh escape him; first Dumbledore had questioned him and then Hermione. Now the entire student body would be waiting to swarm him.

He supposed it wouldn't be that bad.

How hard could it be to fool the students, when he had managed to fool the Headmaster?

_______________________________________________________________________

Harry stood at Platform Nine and Three Quarters, waiting for his uncle to arrive with an unexpected feeling in his gut.

Anticipation.

The last week of Hogwarts had been interesting to say the least. After Dumbledore had paid Ginny Weasely her respects, he had announced that exams would be cancelled due to the hardships the student body had experienced this year. While lessons had continued, they were extremely relaxed. No assignments or detentions were given, not even from Professor Snape.

Although he did seem to be giving Harry strange looks of late.

Surprisingly, the students didn't bother him nearly as much as he had expected. It seemed that they were simply glad that it was over and that they had got through the year unharmed.

The lack of attention the professors and students were giving him allowed him ample time to peruse the pages of the diary and to practice his new found control.

Suffice to say, he had learnt _much_.

'_It's_ a_bout time,' _Harry thought, as he saw his uncle's car pull up.

He quickly made his way to it and tossed himself in the back seat. His uncle didn't make any move to greet him, didn't even acknowledge his presence, but Harry could see his face in the rear-view mirror. It was already purpling in anger.

He grinned mischievously.

"Hello uncle," Harry said innocently. "How was your day?"

"Great until you arrived," Uncle Vernon snapped back. "Shut up and pass me my phone, I need to tell your aunt I've got you."

"Yes, uncle,"

There was a faint whooshing noise.

"Your phone, uncle."

Vernon turned white as his cell phone leisurely floated up from the passenger seat, hovered deliberately in front of his face before gently coming to rest in his lap.

He glanced in the mirror and saw his nephew sitting back calmly a fiendish smile on his face, his arm already lowering to his side.

"We really should be going, shouldn't we uncle?" Harry asked, his nonchalant tone completely at odds with his expression. "We wouldn't want to keep Aunt Petunia waiting would we?"

His uncle looked away and wordlessly started the car.

'_Twelve years,'_ Harry thought excitedly. _'Twelve years of being ordered around, of being walked on.' _

'_Twelve years of hell to pay back.'_

This summer was going to be a blast.


End file.
